


Whispers and Foxes

by clockwork_orange



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: Closure, F/M, Fleabag - Freeform, Fleabag's pov, Friendship, God - Freeform, I had to write about it, It's Soft, It's also a bit sad, Last Episode, My First AO3 Post, POV First Person, Priest, Prose Poem, Romance, Short One Shot, The last episode was too beautiful, final scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockwork_orange/pseuds/clockwork_orange
Summary: Fleabag and the Priest have to say goodbye. Sometimes, not everything that is sad is a bad thing.
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Whispers and Foxes

" I love you," I say. "But don't add anything, please don't add anything." I could not stand it. I could not stand hearing that you love me too. It would make the whole thing sad, so ridiculously sad. And I can't deal with more of us being sad right now.

Thankfully, you don't push it, and do as I said. You drop it. You let the sound of the night - the cars and the music of the party in the background - ring in our ears for an eternity. Your hand moves, looking for mine, finding it. Your hand simply rests on mine like a feeble apology. A "what can I say" apology. An "it is what it is" apology. An "I wish this could be different but it really can't" apology. You stay like that for a long time. Long enough for tears to well up in my eyes and run all the way down to my chin, to my mouth. I whisper, for myself really but you can't help hearing it, I whisper: "I _fucking_ love you." You smile sadly. Wait a respectful second. And then, of all the things you could have said, you simply murmur: "It will pass." Kindly. Softly. A simple fact. My heart dissolves a bit more. My chest on fire. And still, Father, you are right. Go on then, follow your calling. I'll be ok, I always am. I'm used to it, by now.

You get up, grab your coat; say "I'm gonna go" still as softly, as delicately as possible. As if you hadn't already made it obvious. I say "ok" wishing I could scream anything but. You smile. I smile. Our lips tired and faded. You turn your back to me and start walking away. I exhale. You stop. I inhale. Turning your head, you smile to me one last time and then, as casually as possible, as if you were simply being kind to a friend you'd see the next day, gently, so _damn_ gently, you say: "I love you." And then you're gone. 

And I am alone, once more. As sad as always, but not as desperate. For I know now that I will find the way to be ok.


End file.
